


in love and war

by yeokkyu



Category: UNIQ (Band), UP10TION, X1 (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Barebacking, M/M, Porn with Feelings, concubine wooseok, emperor seungyou, joseon era, very minor seungyoun/hangyul
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-27 05:28:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21113435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeokkyu/pseuds/yeokkyu
Summary: But it’s Seungyoun’s fault, not his, because this is what he fucking wanted, this is what all their broken promises amounted to. Wooseok only ruined himself to stay by his side.





	in love and war

**Author's Note:**

> please note that seungyoun does, in fact, have a harem in this. also, jinwoo is somehow the son of both wooseok and seungyoun. dont question it :)

When Wooseok is called into Seungyoun’s chambers, he knows it is not because of longing. 

The servant who passes along the message keeps his head low, back still arched in a bow. His fine blue and white robes betray his status of a eunuch too important for a mere errand like this, and if Wooseok had the emotional capacity to spare, he would laugh at how willful the emperor could be. As it is, his barely controlled fury only allows him to request a few minutes to change in private.    
  


The servant gracefully gives them, and the moment he leaves the room Jinwoo hurls the fine china sitting on the table onto the floor. 

“How can Father do something like this?” he snarls, an uncharacteristic scowl on his face. The hot tea splashes onto the floor and bleeds onto the hem of Wooseok’s silk skirt, but the fabric is too thick for him to feel the heat. Crumbs of fine pastry litter the floor, ruining delicacies that would cost even noble families taels of silver. 

Still unsatisfied, Jinwoo reaches for a porcelain vase on a nearby shelf and throws it against the wall. He vents his fury with the destruction, laying waste to treasures most could not bare to spare. Wooseok just observes numbly, too busy trying to suppress his conflicting emotions to reprimand his son, and it is only when Jinwoo’s gaze strays to his box of jewelry that he speaks a soft but stern command.

“Stop this childish behavior,” he says, unclenching his grip from the arm of the chair. Wooseok forces himself up and walks through the mess, uncaring of how the shards may pierce his skin. “You are above such tantrums, are you not?”

Jinwoo whips around to face him, anger still clinging on to the lines of his face. “It’s not fair! How dare the Crown Prince accuse you of such a crime?” His hands curl into fists. “The kitchens were open to anyone in the palace - anyone could have poisoned his meal.”

Wooseok, of all people, understands the injustice Jinwoo feels. The Crown Prince had gotten much too comfortable with where he stood if he thought such accusations could bring Wooseok down. But the brunt of his fury is not directed toward the Crown Prince.

“And how could Father believe him?”

A sharp exhales leaves his lungs unbidden, and the sudden noise startles Jinwoo into silence. “Enough,” Wooseok says, disappearing behind the divider to where a maid had arranged for the proper attire to entertain the emperor. She waits patiently for Wooseok to shed his comfortable robes before dressing him in fancier ones, in silks of bold and vibrant colors that display all of his power and wealth amidst Seungyoun’s grand harem.

Once the maid is finished, Wooseok steps back into his lounge and sees Jinwoo looking remorseful at the mess he had caused. The other’s fury has finally abated, and he sighs at his son’s pitiful appearance. “Call for the servants to clean this up. Once I am done meeting with your father, we can discuss this further.”

Jinwoo hurriedly nods and bows in farewell as Wooseok leaves the room, and the eunuch who had been used as a messenger leads him to the emperor’s chambers.

The other servants who are hustling to and fro with their daily duties hastily withdraw their gazes once they see it is Wooseok gracing the palace corridors. Used to such behavior, Wooseok studiously ignores them and walks the familiar path to Seungyoun’s room. At the door, the eunuch knocks on the solid wood before leaving him to enter on his own. 

Seungyoun does not look happy.

As Wooseok shuts the door behind him, the first thing he notices is the frown etched across the other’s face. Seungyoun sits, dissatisfied, on the edge of his bed, a loose black robe hanging from his broad shoulders, and there is barely contained anger in the set of his brows. The little bit of hope Wooseok built up in his heart dissipates, and he braces himself for a confrontation he knows he does not deserve.

“Why did you do it,” Seungyoun says, watching him come forward and kneel to greet the emperor. Wooseok twitches at the way the other doesn’t ask for his side of the opinion and at how the question itself is phrased as an accusation. 

“My lord, why do you automatically assume it was me?” he fires back, rising even though he was not told to do so. He regrets it immediately after Seungyoun’s expression turns for the worse, and seemingly out of nowhere the other grabs his hand and pulls him close.

“Don’t think me a fool, love,” he hisses. Through the cloud of frustration that fogs his mind, Wooseok hates how the endearment makes his knees weak. “No one was spotted near the kitchens today except for you and the kitchen servants, and each one of the latter has already proven their innocence.”

“That was according to the empress! Of course he would speak against me to win your favor,” Wooseok argues back.

Seungyoun runs a hand through his hair. “I know the two of you have your differences, but Hangyul would never lie about such a serious manner.”

The words feel like a slap to the face. Wooseok backs away from the other’s grip, trying to keep an even temper. “And you’re saying I would?”

Seungyoun’s eyes burn into his. “You have once before.”

His heart falls. Wooseok blinks and looks away, wondering how Seungyoun could be so callous as to bring up the past. His words are true - Wooseok had lied when he was younger, when he was so desperate for the other’s waning attention that he was willing to conspire with the other concubines to defame the empress. 

“I..” he starts, voice uneven. “I was eighteen, my lord. I’m twenty-two now. You can’t punish me forever for a single mistake.”

“Well you have to give me  _ some  _ evidence that it wasn’t you,” the other snaps back. Wooseok falls quiet, because he doesn’t have any. He went to the kitchens alone for a quick snack, and he didn’t expect he would need to bring anyone with him to bare witness to his motives. 

Hopelessness floods his heart, and even though it shouldn’t, his anger at the situation ebbs away. He seats himself on the other side of the bed and takes Seungyoun’s hand into his. “Please,” he whispers, at the face of the other’s silence, “Can’t you believe in me?”

The charged atmosphere melts into a different type of tension at his willing submission, and Wooseok takes note of the subtle unclenching of Seungyoun’s jaw. The thought of what he should do next to diffuse the other’s anger leaves a bad taste in his mouth, but his hands skirt upward to Seungyoun’s shoulders and pulls him down anyway.

“It wasn’t me, I promise,” Wooseok says, borderline begging as they both lie on the sheets. He clutches the other even closer to his own body.

Seungyoun laughs softly, a thread of malice in his voice. “How you have changed, my love.”

It’s whispered so quietly, so quickly, that Wooseok is sure he was not meant to hear. Suppressing the surge of emotion in his throat, he lays plaint on the emperor's massive bed, legs parted on either side of Seungyoun’s kneeling form. The other hovers over him, his elbow propped next to Wooseok’s face, and their breath mingles as Seungoun stares deep into Wooseok’s eyes.

They remain like this as a wandering hand trails down Wooseok’s robe, tugging on the cloth until it unravels and reveals his naked form. Calloused fingers caress his skin, brushing his sensitive thighs and pressing into the spaces of his ribs, and he begins to feel budding arousal pool in his stomach. His mouth dries, breaths coming faster from is growing lust, and he grips the fabric on Seungyoun’s shoulders to keep himself grounded. The other remains fully clothed, and as much as Wooseok is itching to disrobe him, the intensity of his gaze stops him from moving an inch. 

There’s a brief respite when Seungyoun’s hand leaves his body to fumble with the jars on the side of the bed, dipping his fingers into their contents. Wooseok tries to calm himself down during this time, attempts to tame his out of control arousal, but just as he feels an oiled touch circle the edge of his rim, Seungyoun finally leans in to capture his lips.

The kiss isn’t gentle. It isn’t nice, it isn’t sweet, and it most definitely doesn’t show of the tender affection Seungyoun has always showered Wooseok with. 

This kiss is raw, sharp with the edges of Seungyoun’s canines and aggression. It bites into Wooseok’s lips and draws blood, coating his mouth with salty metal and choking him with Seungyoun’s invasive tongue. It reeks of anger, of grief and frustration; it speaks volumes of the emperor’s dissatisfaction with his concubine. 

They kiss until Wooseok is dizzy with oxygen deprivation, and then some. When they finally part, he stills with the residual surprise lingering in his heart over the brutality of the exchange, but Seungyoun doesn’t give him any time to think. The other jerks his head up by his hair and sucks marks on his neck, pumping two fingers out of his hole.

Wooseok’s head is muddled. He mindlessly grips Seungyoun’s arms, powerless to do anything but accept his advances. It hurts, but a part of him revels in the rough treatment, in the grips that are sure to leave bruises in the morning. Pain becomes pleasure until the pleasure becomes too much, and a whimper crawls its way out of his throat. “My lord, please-“

“Hush,” Seungyoun snarls, the vibrations of his voice rumbling in his chest. Wooseok shivers beneath him, eyes shut tightly, and lets out a cry when the fingers suddenly pull out and are replaced with Seungyoun’s cock.

There’s no warning before Seungyoun fucks into him. All Wooseok feels is the hot burn, the dragging of something against his inner walls, something penetrating deep where no one else is permitted. The thrust brushes against his prostate, sending a jolt of pleasure up his spine. His back arches, right into the waiting arms of the emperor, and the back of his knees are pulled right against Seungyoun’s shoulders. 

Wooseok’s moans get louder, his hands moving down to grasp at the silk sheets. He squirms against the press of Seungyoun’s body, wanting both more of the growing pleasure building in his gut and less of it, and a sliver of tongue ghosting across his chest almost pushes him to his climax.

“A-ah, my lord, please please please-“ he begs, not even sure what for. A particularly hard thrust has him trailing off into a keen and his nails rip holes in the fabric, but he’s too busy chanting his pleas to care.

“Wooseok.”

The sudden address has his eyes snap open. His gaze meets Seungyoun, and what he sees almost makes him want to laugh.

He thinks: My lord, why do you look so betrayed?

Pushing the impulse to the side, he drags Seungyoun’s face forward for a kiss and tries to forget what he saw. The other hauls his body closer and continues to fuck into him, his head buried in the junction between Wooseok’s neck and shoulder, but despite his best efforts, Wooseok’s thoughts wander. Like a fever dream, he retreats into himself and feels the numbness spread into his tired limbs. 

Here’s the thing - Wooseok is undeniably, irrefutably in love with Cho Seungyoun.

He had always been, since the very first moment he saw the other man. When Wooseok was but a child, a part of a middle-tier noble family not worthy of the royal court’s notice, and he saw Seungyoun walk through the doors of his courtyard, his breath had stopped in his lungs. The world had grinded to a halt, and everything faded away that wasn’t Seungyoun’s wide smile and crescent eyes.  _ He seems kind _ , Wooseok had thought dumbly, ignoring the black phoenix robes that he knew were only worn by the crown prince. 

And he was. Seungyoun was so,  _ so _ kind, not caring at all that Wooseok was the son of some no good court official. Despite the fact that Wooseok should be nothing to him, that he actually was nothing more than the dirt staining the edge of his clothes, Seungyoun snuck away from the palace to keep Wooseok company. He would stay with him until the wee hours of the night, imparting fascinating stories and jokes to entertain him. Wooseok fell hard and fast, a willing victim to hopeless love, but somehow, in a twist of fate, the emperor had bestowed an imperial decree ordering for the two of them to wed. 

_ (“Why?” Wooseok had asked quietly that night, eyes trained on the ground.  _

_ His gaze flickered up just in time to see the blush blossoming on Seungyoun’s cheeks. “Because I asked him too.”) _

The days that followed were a whirlwind of chaos. Shock rippled across the Royal Court, most unable to believe that the Crown Prince’s first marriage would be of someone of such low status, and Wooseok had cringed away from all the sudden attention. His parents were ecstatic at the sudden fortune, but he was a jumbled mix of terror and excitement. Wooseok didn’t want the pointed fingers that revealed his every flaw, nor the snide remarks about his middle-tier family. Everywhere he went he could hear the voices telling him he wasn’t good enough, that he wasn’t worthy to walk the same path as the beloved Crown Prince, and sometimes the words cut deep enough to bring tears to his eyes.

But he still had courage. Seungyoun was going to be by his side forever, and with a solemn expression and intertwined pinkies, he had promised a future where it would just be the two of them and nobody else.  _ Everything was going to be alright _ , Wooseok thought, as he was clothed in red silk and a veil was placed over his head.  _ This will be our happiness,  _ he told himself, as the seden entered the wedding chambers and Seungyoun greeted him with a smile that could rival the sun. 

Then the emperor died, and Seungyoun was seated on the golden throne.

They say that power changes a person. They also say that power changes how others see a person. Regardless of whatever is true, Wooseok nativity vanishes the minute the Royal Court stuffs Seungyoun’s harem with potential candidates to rule by his side. 

( _ Because Wooseok might be his first husband, but he’s not fit to be empress by any means.  _

_ “I don’t care about them,” Seungyoun murmurs against his skin. “You’ll be the only one I love. That’s all that matters, isn’t it?” _

_ His voice sounds almost desperate, but all Wooseok can think about is Hangyul sitting by the other’s side, dressed in crimson and a golden crown to match.  _

_ He stays silent.) _

Now he knows that he was foolish to believe the promises of their adolescence. It wasn’t possible for the emperor to be monogamous, not when he needed control over the entire Royal Court. Wooseok gets that, he understands that sacrifices have to be made on both of their parts.

But who can he blame once Seungyoun starts to distance himself from his embrace, once he starts to value the words of others against his own? It hurts when Wooseok must surrender the emperor to the other members in the harem, but it feels like his heart is getting ripped out of his chest when Seungyoun levels a disappointed face at  _ him  _ in the face of false accusations.

Sure, Wooseok has changed himself. He’s far from the innocent boy that only wanted the emperor’s love - he’s tasted the riches and status he’s lacked as a child, and he doesn’t ever want to go back. Maybe he is just as selfish as the other nobles he claims he is far above, because now he hungers for all three  _ and  _ the emperor’s constant attention. But it’s  _ Seungyoun’s  _ fault, not his, because  _ this  _ is what Seungyoun fucking wanted,  _ this  _ is what all their broken promises amounted to. Wooseok only ruined himself to stay by his side.

_ Did you even love me?  _

A sharp bite to his neck brings him back to the present. 

Distantly, Wooseok hears Seungyoun’s muffled groan as he releases inside of him. The heat pulsates around his hole, and the cum leaks out slowly from where they are enjoined, making a sticky mess of his thighs.

He stares at the other’s face, not even feeling his own climax. His eyes trace over the familiar features that once brought him so much joy, that made his heart blossom when he waited for Seungyoun deep into the cold nights. 

The ache in his chest now makes it impossible to breathe.

So.

So Wooseok grips the back of Seungyoun’s neck and brings him into a ferocious kiss of his own, pouring everything he can’t say into the other’s lips. He ignores the muffled, confused noise that the emperor emits and swallows down the protests he can’t bear to hear. Seungyoun tastes of failure, of betrayal, but above all, a broken heart.

  
_ Weren’t you the first to fall out of love?  _

**Author's Note:**

> yall i had this in my drafts FOREVER (i say drafts but what i really mean is that i had like two sentences written down) and i just really wanted to finish it so. i did. in like three hours :) 
> 
> pls excuse the mistakes it is not edited in the slightest!!! and also the poor writing it has been a hot minute since i actually fully wrote something phew
> 
> thanks for reading (if you got this far lmao)
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/yeokkyu)


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